


The Hunger Games: Peeta's Perspective

by ishippedsohardisunk



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, POV Peeta Mellark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-07 20:19:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12848760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishippedsohardisunk/pseuds/ishippedsohardisunk
Summary: I think the title is pretty self-explanatory. *Also posted on fanfiction.net under the same username*





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing I hear in the morning is my mother screaming for me to make myself presentable. After all, I am going to be seen in front of the entire district. I roll over and pull the covers over my head, trying not to think of the reaping. In a few short hours, I’ll be up standing in a large crowd of people, waiting to see whether or not I’ll be sent to die in the annual Hunger Games.

            Of course, the odds should be in my favor. If anyone in my family has to worry, it should be my brother Anton. He’s eighteen so his name in the pool seven times. The odds were in favor of my eldest brother Rogerrik. He managed to make it out of the tribute age bracket without being chosen. Living in town, relatively few people we know have ever actually been chosen in the reaping. Things are less favorable for those living in the Seam, the poorer part of District 12. It’s kind of interesting, actually. Most of the people in town have blonde hair and blue eyes like my brothers and I do. But out in the Seam, almost everyone has dark hair and gray eyes.

            My reminiscing is interrupted by my mother yet again, but this time she is hurling out obscenities so I reluctantly leave the warmth and safety of my covers and step onto the cold wood floor. When I finally make it downstairs, my family is already eating breakfast.

            Meal time conversation in my family is often stilted and awkward when my mother is around. She’s a bit of a dragon. Even though she’s an unpleasant sort to be around, she’s my mother, and I love her. After all, she does love us in her own way. I think.

            Most of breakfast today was spent in solemn silence until Anton rolled his eyes and began going on about how we finally got a decent breakfast for once. The warm rolls, barely out of the oven, are an upgrade from our usual fare. Generally we end up eating the stale leftovers that no one bought from my father’s bakery. I still get to eat, so I’m not complaining.

            However, Anton is rarely satisfied with anything. I think his mood today is partly because of the reaping and partly because he got turned down by Rosemary Pritchett _again._ As of yesterday, that makes three times this month. Considering her older brother is huge, I would worry for him were he not the school’s wrestling champion. Anton can beat just about anyone in a fair fight. Unfortunately, that doesn’t help him win over Rosemary. He’s been after her for over a year and every time she turns him down he gets surlier.

            Personally, I think he should turn his attentions elsewhere. It’s pretty obvious she likes this big guy whose name I think is Gale from the Seam. Not that I can blame him. I have almost the exact same problem. Katniss Everdeen, the girl I’ve been in love with since I was five years old, is seen hanging out with him all the time. With everything that is going on today, I really don’t want to worry about my Katniss problems, so I push thoughts of her out of my mind as best I can and get to work.

            Out of all my family members, my father entrusts me with decorating all the cakes for the bakery. It’s something I actually enjoy. I’m not too bad at it. It’s sort of relaxing, painting pictures with frosting, using the cakes as my canvas. I swirl intricate designs with blue and green frosting until Rogerrik hollers that it’s nearly time to go to the square.

            Washing the thick, crusted frosting off my hands is no simple task. It takes several minutes to scrub all of the gunk from the cracks in my skin. Eventually, I am de-frosted, my face is washed, my hair is combed, and my mother is shuffling all of us out the front door. The square is crowded when we arrive, seeing as everyone is required by law to attend the reaping.

            After signing in, my family dissipates. My mother and father end up who knows where, but I catch a glimpse of Rogerrik standing next to his girlfriend, Maeve. I smile a little, knowing that they are planning to be married fairly soon. Looking around, I see Anton in the back with the eighteen-year-olds, not too far from that one guy Gale. Not too far to my right is Katniss.

            We’ve never spoken, but I see her hands clenched into fists and I want to tell her that everything will be okay. I know she has a little sister. Is it her first year being part of the reaping? That would explain it. Katniss is normally so cool and collected. Most of the time she actually seems bored with what’s going on. As far as I know, besides Gale, her only friend is another girl in our year named Madge. She’s pretty nice, but really quiet, so we’ve never really talked either. I’d love to hear a little more about Katniss from her.

            “Hi Peeta!” a cheerful voice greets from my left. I turn and see my longtime friend, Delly Cartwright. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” I have to chuckle because Delly is the most optimistic person I know. Only she could notice how nice a day it was when the reaping was going on. “Yeah, it is nice out,” I tell her quickly because the Peacekeepers are shushing us. The ceremony is about to begin.

            Mayor Undersee, Madge’s father, intones the history of Panem, like he does every year. I have his speech practically memorized by now, so my eyes scan the crowd to see if there is anything else interesting to look at. I notice that Effie Trinket is wearing a pink wig and I nudge Delly and gesture sharply with my head. She covers her mouth to keep from giggling. I know that the Hunger Games are terrifying, but the way I see it, you can either laugh or cry. Most of the time, I try to laugh.

            The mayor finally gets to reading District 12’s previous victors, and Haymitch Abernathy, the last living victor, slumps in a chair on the stage. After he is introduced, he attempts to hug Effie Trinket. Delly and I exchange a glance and both try really hard not to burst out laughing from pure nerves.

            Undeterred, Effie Trinket strides up to the podium and says, “Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!” like she does every year. She babbles about how honored she is to be here, but honestly, she isn’t fooling anyone. District 12 is seen as the least desirable district in Panem. I can almost hear Anton rolling his eyes from several rows behind me. He thinks Effie is the most ridiculous person on the face of the planet. Much as I hate to admit it, I sort of agree with him.

            As Effie calls out, “Ladies first!” I can’t help but worry about every girl I know. Katniss. Delly. Even Rosemary. No one deserves to have their name called and be forced to fight to the death. No one. My heart nearly stops when I hear the name said, clear as day. Primrose Everdeen.


	2. Chapter 2

Katniss’ sister? Why did it have to be Katniss’ sister? At least it isn’t Katniss herself. I allow myself to glance over at her, and I see an expression of absolute shock on her face. She seems dazed, like she just had the wind knocked out of her.

            “Oh that poor sweet little girl!” Delly says, anguished. Delly isn’t the only one. Everyone in the crowd seems unhappy. It’s always bad when a twelve-year-old gets reaped. It doesn’t seem right. Of course, the whole institution of the Hunger Games is completely messed up, but when it happens to a twelve-year-old…

            Primrose finally begins her walk up to the stage, looking petrified. I’m startled when I hear Katniss yell. “Prim! Prim!” My eyes widen as she darts through the crowd and pushes her sister behind her just as she is about to mount the stage. Then the girl I am love with does something that completely blows my mind. “I volunteer!” she says breathlessly. “I volunteer as tribute!”

            Everyone around me is confused, but I pay them little attention. I can barely breathe. Katniss…why would you do that? Why? No one, and I mean NO ONE, ever volunteers in District 12. It is in this moment that I realize I know nothing about the girl I’ve loved my whole life. The thought is disturbing, but still not quite as disturbing as the thought of Katniss in the arena with all those kids trying to kill her.

            “Lovely!” Effie Trinket trills, momentarily breaking me from my raging thoughts. “But I believed there’s a small matter of introducing the reaping winner  and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…” she trails off, unsure.

            The mayor speaks up, looking distressed, but not half as distressed as I felt. “What does it matter? What does it matter? Let her come forward.” At this point, Prim starts shrieking her head off and hugging her sister tightly. “No, Katniss! No! You can’t go!” To be honest, I felt like doing the same thing myself.

            “Prim, let go,” Katniss says firmly. “Let go!” I see Gale ripping the little sister from Katniss and the girl is thrashing wildly. “Up you go, Catnip,” Gale says in a slightly shaky voice. Amidst all the insanity, I still find myself frowning, realizing that there is a relationship of some sort there. What does it matter? How could it possibly matter at this point?

            Katniss climbs the stairs and Effie Trinket begins to gush. “Well, bravo! That’s the spirit of the Games! What’s your name?” “Katniss Everdeen,” Katniss says surprisingly calmly. “I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don’t want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!” Effie says exuberantly.

            Not one person claps. I raise an eyebrow. I guess everyone else realizes how amazing Katniss is as well, because everyone seems firmly set against her being up there. I see someone use an ancient gesture from our district, the three-finger salute saying goodbye and thank you to someone you love. I immediately follow their example. Delly joins in, and so do all the people in our year. Pretty soon everyone in the square is holding out their fingers to Katniss Everdeen.

            I want to cry at this point, then Haymitch crosses the stage unevenly. “Look at her! Look at this one! Lots of…spunk! More than you! More than you!” He’s pointing directly into the camera, and I can’t help but wonder who he is addressing. He is about to continue when he trips off the stage and passes out. I turn my gaze back to Katniss and for a second, she appears to be panicking before she composes herself and begins staring off into the distance. What is running through her mind right now?

            “What an exciting day!” Effie trills. “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our boy tribute!” For a split second I worry about Anton before she reads off my name. “Peeta Mellark!” I couldn’t form a coherent thought if I tried. I tried not to let my torrent of emotions show on my face, but all I could think of was why. Why? Why me? Why Katniss and me? I can’t fight her!

            As I climb onto the stage and Effie asks for volunteers, I look to my family. Anton’s eyes are facing the ground and Rogerrik has a look of absolute horror on his face. Maeve is trying to comfort him. A fleeting thought flashes through my mind. I’m not going to make it to the wedding. Glancing at my parents, my mother’s expression is unreadable but my father’s eyes are full of pain.

            I try really hard not to think as the mayor reads the lengthy Treaty of Treason. I am only half-listening to what he is saying. Instead I find myself scanning the crowd, seeing the faces of friends, family, people I will never see again. Anton finally looks up and I can see the misery in his face, which is slightly comforting. At least someone will miss me.

            But I find myself thinking of the girl standing across from me. Katniss and I have never interacted. We’re not friends. The only time we really had contact was when we were eleven. It was right after Katniss’ father had died. Before that, he’d been a semi-regular customer of ours, though my father was never too happy to see him. He sort of stole the heart of the woman my father really loved. I often wondered if my mother knew this, and that was why she was so rotten to us sometimes.

            On that particular day, it was raining buckets outside. I was watching the bread baking in the oven, making sure it wasn’t burning. My mother was very strict about it. The last time Anton had burned bread, she’d hit him with her rolling pin. He’d been black and blue for a week. I didn’t want the same thing to happen to me.

            Suddenly, my mother rushed past me and began yelling into the darkness of the backyard. “Move on! Do you want me to call the Peacekeepers? I am so sick of having you Seam brats pawing through my trash!” Curiosity motivated me to peek outside from behind my mother. I was horrified when I saw it was an emaciated Katniss Everdeen and my eleven-year-old mind quickly concocted a plan.

            My mother was still ranting as we went back inside, and when her back was turned, I knocked the baking pan over and the bread fell into the flames. I immediately set to recover them, but my mother caught me and began hollering up a storm. I flinched as I saw her lift the dreaded rolling pin. It caught me on the cheek and she continued screaming at me as I headed towards the pig pen.

            “Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! Why not? No one decent will buy burned bread!” Reigning in my tears from the pulsing welt on my face, I picked off the burnt bits, making extra sure to remove as little bread as possible.  Double checking to make sure my mother didn’t see because she’d beat me double if I was caught, I tossed both loaves of bread at Katniss and quickly rushed back through the door as if nothing had happened.

            Looking back, I wished I had done more. The next day at school it was humiliating because I had to explain to everyone that I’d gotten into a fight with my brother. Anton, Rogerrik, and I had a pact that every time our mother beat us we’d tell people who asked that it was one of us so our mother wouldn’t get into trouble. We figured if her reputation was ruined, she’d probably take it out on us more…

            I saw Katniss in the hallway at school but I didn’t quite know what to do, especially considering she could see my black eye. Being the idiot I was, I did nothing. After school ended, I saw her across the schoolyard and our eyes met for just a second before I turned away. Anton was calling to me, and I still was at a loss what to say to her.

            Years had passed, and I still hadn’t talked to her. I’d been wishing for my chance, and this is how it happens. Oh sweet irony. I finally get to talk to the love of my life when we’re both about to die. The Treaty of Treason finally ended and we are supposed to shake hands. I look Katniss dead in the eye and shake her head, squeezing her hand and trying to convey that somehow things will be okay. In all reality, things are as far from okay as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

I’m still trying to think about something, about anything other than what I am about to face when we are shepherded into the Justice Building. Katniss and I are shuffled off into separate rooms, and I find myself alone. I guess this is when all my loved ones get to say goodbye to me. At this point I am so dazed I have no idea what I would say to any one of them.

            A couple of childhood friends come in and wish me luck and try to give me advice or tell me how sorry they are, and I just nod and play along. I’m really not in the mood to talk right now, and none of their visits make a lasting impression on me, though Delly Cartwright did give me a bone-crushing hug that involved about a bucket of tears.

Rogerrik and Anton come in next, and they look genuinely sorrowful. “I am so sorry this happened to you, Peeta,” Rogerrik says mournfully. I just nod and look at my feet. “Listen, try to enjoy the food while you’re there, okay? Chances are, the end will be quick,” Anton chips in. “Thanks, Annie,” I say sarcastically. He hates being called Annie. He throws his hands up. “Just trying to be optimistic!”

            Anton’s comment was far from reassuring. It made me think of a thousand different ways the other tributes could kill me. I am in danger of crying at this point, and Anton expressing regret doesn’t help me any. “I am really sorry I didn’t volunteer for you…I mean, after what that Katniss girl did for her sister…I hope you didn’t expect…I’m sorry. This is my last year in the reaping. Next year I’m free to live.”

            I told him the truth. “The thought didn’t even cross my mind. It doesn’t matter. Take care of our parents and make Rosemary yours, okay?” I needed to focus my worries away from me at the moment. Anton gives me a ghost of a smile and he and Rogerrik tackle hug me at the same time just like they used to when we were little and I feel a few tears trail down my cheeks as they are herded out.

            My parents come in next, and I wipe my tears, not wanting my mother to see my weakness. She always hated it when we cried. My dad tells me he loves me and gives me an awkward but well-meaning hug. I am feeling slightly comforted until my mother begins to speak. “Well way to go getting yourself reaped,” my mother says. “Maybe District 12 will finally have a winner this year. She’s a survivor, that one.” Now I truly burst into tears. My own mother didn’t think I had a ghost of a chance.

            As my parents left, I had myself a good pity party, and I ended up crying a lot. I barely stop as Katniss and I are shoved into a car together and driven to the train station. There are cameras everywhere, but I really don’t care about anything. I’m going to die on screen, so what does it matter what I look like now?

            On the speeding train, we are led to our individual chambers, and told we are allowed to do pretty much whatever we want. I end up sitting around meaninglessly for several hours. I size up my bedroom and realize how fancy it is but that doesn’t mean anything to me. I lie on the plush couch staring at the ceiling and trying hard not to think of anything.

            It is laying there on that couch, zooming towards my fate that I make a decision. I am going to sacrifice myself to save Katniss. I mean really, what do I have back for me in District 12? A mother who hates me. Brothers who are grown up enough to survive without me. Friends who have other friends. I figure if we both have to go into that arena, the one who has more to live for should come out.

            Katniss has her mother and little sister to take care of. I acknowledge with a lump in my throat that she also has Gale. She is needed and wanted more than I am. Besides, I couldn’t imagine a world without her. From this point on, my only goal is to get to know the girl I am trying to save a little better. If I must die, and I do, I want to die with the knowledge that I was at least on friendly terms with the girl I loved.

            I want to tell my plan to Haymitch, but when I see him he says he’s heading off to bed, so I wash my face and try very hard to appear cheerful when I go out to dinner. I’m already at the table when Katniss shows up, looking beautiful as ever. Effie came in with her. “Where’s Haymitch?” I pipe up. “Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap.” “Well, it’s been an exhausting day,” Effie says, relieved.

            The meal is delicious. I have never eaten anything like it. The carrot soup is to die for, but then so is the salad, then the lamb chops and mashed potatoes. I love mashed potatoes, but we hardly ever get them back home, and my mother’s taste nothing like these. I stuff myself on the potatoes, then the cheese and fruit, and end up eating three slices of the chocolate cake.

            “At least, you two have decent manners,” Effie sniffs halfway through the meal. “The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion.” I frown, knowing that last year’s kids were from the Seam and were starving to death before the reaping. Katniss takes it to the next level by eating the rest of her dinner with her hands. I barely manage to conceal my grin. After the meal, it’s obvious we’re both having a hard time keeping this ridiculously rich food down.

            We end up going to another train compartment to watch the reaping recap. Examining the competition, I am most worried about the huge brutish looking guy who volunteered from District 2. There was also a twelve year old girl from District 11 that was upsetting. What are the odds that two twelve year old girls will be picked in one year?

            Watching our reaping again, I nearly groan seeing Katniss desperately throw herself between her sister and the stage as she volunteers. There isn’t much about me in the recap, which is kind of nice in a weird way.  Effie is mad about how her wig looked on camera. “Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior.”

The laughter I’d been holding in since watching Haymitch fall off the stage for the second time that day finally burst out. “He was drunk. He’s drunk every year.” “Every day,” Katniss adds with a smirk and I love how we are on the same wavelength. “Yes,” Effie hisses. “How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!” I am near positive this is the longest speech I have ever heard her make.

Haymitch nearly trips into the compartment then. “I miss supper?” he slurs. Then he vomits all over the floor and ends up falling into his own vomit. “So laugh away!” Effie says and hops around the vomit before leaving Katniss and I to deal with the mess.


	4. Chapter 4

Haymitch is struggling to get up and Katniss and I exchange a glance. What on earth are we going to do with Haymitch? He clearly isn’t in a state to help us in the Games like this. If he’s this bad all the time…well no wonder we haven’t had a victor in so long. He stirs. “I tripped? Smells bad.” Disgustingly, he ends up smearing vomit all over his face in an attempt to wipe his nose.

Almost in unison, Katniss and I each grab one of Haymitch’s arms and practically drag him back to his room. He really needs a bath. We heft him into the tub and start the shower. He is so out of it I don’t think he even realizes what is going on. Katniss looks at our mentor in disgust. I can tell she really doesn’t want to be the one dealing with him.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’ll take it from here.” She seems slightly relieved. “All right. I can send one of the Capitol people to help you.” I shake my head vehemently. “No. I don’t want them.” Haymitch is from home. We have to take care of our own, right? Besides, the Capitol people are so fake, I want as little as possible to do with them. They stand for everything the Districts do not. Especially District 12.

I grimace a little as I have to rotate Haymitch in the bathtub to strip him down. It takes a lot more effort to get all the vomit off of him but soon he is covered in lather. The smell of roses assaults my nostrils and I wrinkle my nose a little. Roses are great and all, but whatever they put in this soap is seriously strong.

After what seems like an eternity, I manage to get Haymitch completely clean and dry. The buttons in the shower are ridiculous and it takes me forever to figure out which ones would help me out. I actually end up getting sprayed in the face and am bewildered for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. At my laughter, Haymitch stirs a little and begins spewing forth nonsense mumbling.

It is really awkward trying to get him dressed so I just set him on the bed in his boxers and put a thin blanket on him. Haymitch’s mumbling continues for a few moments more before he begins to snore loudly. Grinning, I head to my own compartment and now that I sort of know how to operate the showers here, I take one myself. Unfortunately, I still haven’t figured out how to avoid the rose perfumed soap. Do they have any other scents here?

I am overwhelmed with homesickness. The bakery. In just a few hours, my family will be up, the scent of baking bread wafting through the house. My brothers will be squabbling as usual, but my father will set them straight before my mother wakes up and whips them. Maybe Katniss’ friend will already be there trading a squirrel for bread. My mother doesn’t like the arrangement, so my father would always get them when she was away.

My mother prefers to spend most of her time socializing in town with the wives of the other townsmen, so generally, we are spared her wrath. Spending time with my father and brothers is one of the things I enjoy most. Enjoyed most. I’ll never see them again. Soon, I’ll be dead, and they’ll be receiving my cold, mangled body in a box.

That thought snaps me back to reality and the fond reminiscing of home ends. I have a really hard time falling to sleep after that. I dream about all the horrible ways I could die in the arena, how Katniss could die, how I could see her die, how my family and friends will have to watch me die. What is Delly going to do when she sees my death play out on screen? How will Anton and Rogerrik react?

Effie wakes me up early, and I don’t feel rested at all. She offers me this creamy looking brown liquid and tells me to get up because “it’s going to be another big, big, big day! Drink your hot chocolate, it’ll wake you up a little.” I answer groggily. “Whazzat?” But she’s quickly gone, and I tentatively take a sip of the sweet stuff. It’s really, really good. I figure if this is my wakeup call, breakfast must be worth going to. So I get changed and trudge into the dining car and start stuffing my face with rolls, the first food I see. These are even better than the ones we make back home, and that’s saying something.

I stop when I hear a chuckle, and realize Haymitch is already there. Oh. The look on his face makes it clear he knows at least a little of what happened last night. I turn bright red, and of course, Effie takes that moment to lead Katniss in. Just my luck. I’m about to die and I’m not going to get the chance to tell this girl all I’ve wanted to say since I was five. And now she probably thinks I’m an idiot. She has Gale back home anyway…

“Sit down, sit down,” Haymitch says impatiently and Katniss complies and immediately sizes up the platter set before us. It’s a feast, really, but here it’s just breakfast. Unbelievable. She eyes a cup of what Effie gave me this morning and scowls because she doesn’t seem to know what it is. I smile. “They call it hot chocolate. It’s good.” She takes a sip, and then immediately drains the whole cup and digs into her food. I have never in my life seen a girl eat like that.

I have to hold back my chuckle because I know that’ll just make her mad, so I sit back and continue to eat my rolls, deciding to dunk them in my second cup of hot chocolate. It’s actually a pretty good combination. But as I see Haymitch drinking like there’s no tomorrow, I get mad. He is NOT going to do this to us, and just let us die. Well, I know I’m going to die, but I will not stand for Haymitch not at least giving Katniss a chance to live.

“So you’re supposed to give us some advice,” Katniss finally says. Haymitch gives her a look. “Here’s some advice. Stay alive.” He bursts out laughing and I realize it’s at our expense. I’m furious. I knock the stupid glass right out of his hand. “That’s very funny. Only not to us.” Haymitch pauses a moment before punching me in the jaw, hard. I actually fall out of my chair. I’m in a lot of pain, but there is no way I’m complaining in front of Katniss. She’s tough and won’t respect weakness.

Apparently she’s as mad as I am, because she sticks a knife in the table right where his fingers were a moment before. Haymitch seems to be sizing us up. “Well what’s this? Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?” I realize it’s probably safe for me to get up, so I do and grab a handful of ice from the container of fruit and hold it up to my jaw, trying to prevent swelling. I’ve learned the hard way that punches hurt a lot worse the second day.

Haymitch takes my ice away. “No, let the bruise show. The audience will think you’ve mixed it up with another tribute before you’ve even made it to the arena.” I frown. Where is he going with this? “That’s against the rules.” Haymitch shrugs. “Only if they catch you. That bruise will say that you fought, you weren’t caught, even better.” He turns his attention toward Katniss. “Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table?”

My eyes are trained on Katniss now. I am slightly curious why Haymitch is suddenly paying attention to us, but I bet it’s because Katniss is such a strong competitor. I’ve seen what she can do with a bow and arrow. My father’s squirrels, which he shares with us when our mother isn’t around, never have arrow wounds in the body. She can bring a squirrel down by hitting it in the eye. And squirrels are fast!

She strides over to the table and snatches up the knife. She eyes her target and throws. The knife sticks perfectly between two panels of wood on the wall. I’m in awe as Haymitch summons us with a nod. “Stand over here. Both of you.” He circles us and really sizes us up. He’s almost uncomfortably close. “Well, you’re not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get a hold of you, you’ll be attractive enough.”

Attractive enough? Katniss is beautiful. Her gray eyes remind me of the sky when there’s a thunderstorm, and her dark hair is luscious. I am willing to bet anything that she doesn’t see it, but Katniss Everdeen is definitely a beauty. She’s so graceful. I’ve never seen her smile, but I’m sure if I was lucky enough to, it’d be perfect too. But what about me? I’m not attractive in the slightest. I haven’t been able to catch the eye of the only girl I’ve ever been interested in. What is Haymitch going on about?

“All right, I’ll make a deal with you,” Haymitch says, breaking me from my raging thoughts. “You don’t interfere with my drinking, and I’ll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly what I say.” “Fine,” I say in a voice more confident than I felt. I still need to tell him my plan to get Katniss out of there alive. It isn’t fully formed, but I have to find a way.

Katniss speaks up. “So help us. When we get to the arena, what’s the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone-” Haymitch cuts her off and she scowls. “One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we’ll be pulling into the station. You’ll be put in the hands of your stylists. You’re not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what, don’t resist.” Katniss looks mutinous. “But-” “No buts. Don’t resist,” Haymitch says as he saunters off with his bottle of alcohol.

I want to say something, but I find myself at a loss for words as we zoom through a giant tunnel. When light finally breaks through the windows, we both rush over to see. I have to admit, the Capitol is gorgeous. The TV doesn’t quite capture what it actually looks like. It’s so colorful and bright for a place that’s greatest entertainment is watching twenty four kids kill each other every year.

I see a bunch of the strange looking Capitol people pointing eagerly at our train and I try to block out my hatred for these people and remember to smile and wave. I try to convince myself I am doing this for Katniss. I have to keep waving and being cheerful and pretending I like these people who have doomed us to die.

I notice Katniss gawking at me, shocked I am interacting with these idiots. “Who knows? One of them may be rich.” She backs away from me and I can’t help thinking how she is already probably plotting my death. She doesn’t know me, really. I know she wants to win to get back to her family, and I am all for that plan. I know I am going to die, but more than anything, I don’t want Katniss Everdeen to be the tribute that kills me.


	5. Chapter 5

I wince as Amaryllis, one of the members of my prep team scrubs the bottoms of my feet almost harshly. “Sorry,” she squeaks. “But I have to get rid of these callouses!” Alonzo, the only male member of my prep team, begins a similar process for my hands. I can’t help that I have baker’s hands.

I have burn scars all over my hands and arms, and yes, my hands are heavily calloused from all the lifting I have to do. Flour sacks aren’t the best for skin, apparently. Or flour in general. The stuff likes to hide in the cracks of my hands and it’s really hard to remove without vigorous scrubbing. Well, the vigorous scrubbing had to happen at some point I guess.

I want to protest when they strip me and end up looking at every inch of my naked body. It’s uncomfortable, even though these people are very unlike people. Amaryllis has neon yellow hair, eyeliner, and lipstick and sparkling blue jewels inlaid under her eyes. Alonzo’s hair is bright purple and sticks straight up four inches from his head so it looks like a very small field of purple grass. Rosalind, the third member of the team, has a green mohawk and one long, thin green braid down the left side of her face in addition to a pair of cat’s whiskers. What on earth do these people think about all this? What makes them think that these grotesque alterations look good?

After being nearly foamed to death, powdered, primped, and slathered with lotion, Rosalind smiles. “Okay, you look almost like a human being now.” I am too shocked to even form a sentence. They think I don’t look human?! Have they seen themselves?! I am starting to feel angry when the three ridiculous Capitol people trot off to find my stylist, who I learned is named Portia.

When she comes out, I am surprised how she looks. No whiskers, no jewels, and no crazy hair. Her blonde hair is cut in a stylish bob and she is wearing thick blue eyeliner that actually compliments her eyes.  Her outfit is a simple white blouse and black skirt, and her high heels are relatively tame compared to some I’ve seen thus far. “Hi Peeta,” she says almost shyly. “I’m your stylist, Portia.” I shake her hand. “Peeta Mellark.”

I’m pleasantly surprised how normal she seems. I know I’ve definitely never seen her before. “Are you new?” I blurt out. I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered seeing her in a previous Games. She nods meekly. “Yes. I signed on this year, the same time as Katniss’ stylist, Cinna.” I swear I saw her blush. I guess I’m not the only one with unrequited love in the District 12 team. I actually feel sorry for her.

She leads me quietly to a table where our lunch is waiting, and we both eat up in silence. I can’t help but think of how much food goes to waste here and how much the Capitol citizens get that we don’t back in the Districts. A lump forms in my throat and I almost can’t finish my meal. Portia seems to sense my discomfort, but she doesn’t bring it up.

“I know you’re technically supposed to be dressed as a coal miner of some sort,” Portia says. “But Cinna and I had a different idea for what to do with the coal theme. How do you feel about fire?” I don’t mind it really, considering how often I’ve been around it in the ovens and all. But Portia’s idea with the fire isn’t exactly my speed. In fact, it terrifies me out of my mind.

Once she’s finished with me, I am dressed in a plain black unitard that pinches in uncomfortable places, knee length shiny black boots, and a cape and head piece made of fluttering pieces of yellow, red, and orange fabric. Portia says that Cinna is going to light them on fire as we go out in the chariot. The Games haven’t even begun yet and already I have a strong chance of dying.

Portia tries to reassure me. “It’s going to be okay. Cinna and I made the synthetic fire ourselves. It won’t hurt you at all.” I wasn’t exactly reassured. Effie and the two prep teams are squealing in excitement about how wonderful we’ll look, but Cinna looks almost tired, and I hear Portia sigh. Once again I find myself feeling sorry for someone from the Capitol. Probably just because I can relate.

Katniss looks beautiful in her costume because Cinna let her look like herself. I suppose I probably look okay too considering all the work the prep team put me through, but I’ll never compare to that. Once we’re in the chariot though, my thoughts change direction. What happens if we really do roast to death? What if we catch on fire then fall out of the chariot? I’d never exactly had the best balance anyway.

As the stylists start whispering to each other, Katniss turns to me. “What do you think about the fire?” I grit my teeth, a nervous habit. “I’ll rip off your cape if you’ll rip off mine.” “Deal,” Katniss says and I’m relieved I have a backup plan. “I know we promised Haymitch we’d do exactly what they said, but I don’t think he considered this angle.” I frown and look around, not seeing our deadbeat mentor. “Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn’t he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?” I ask. “With all that alcohol in him, it’s probably not advisable to have him around an open flame,” Katniss notes.

We instantly begin cracking up. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard Katniss laugh before, but I can hardly think about that. I am laughing out of stress, but also because here I am, in the face of death, and making jokes with the girl I’ve crushed on my whole life. Oh the irony.

The districts ahead of us begin rolling out as the opening music begins, and I begin to feel lightheaded. Cinna pops up and sets our capes on fire before I can even process what he’s about to do. “Here we go then.” I expect to be burned to death, but all I feel is the slight feeling of being tickled. I can live with that. I nearly fall to my knees in relief. Once our headdresses are lit, Cinna sighs. “It works.” Hang on, he didn’t know if it would work?! Cinna, who I am beginning to think is completely insane, caresses Katniss’ face. “Remember, heads high. Smiles. They’re going to love you!”

Cinna leaves the chariot but turns back around and begins shouting and gesturing at us over the loud music. My stomach does a flip flop and my heart begins racing even faster than it already was when I realize what he’s saying. “What’s he saying?” Katniss asks. I barely get the words out without stuttering. “I think he said for us to hold hands.” I tentatively reach for her hand and we both glance at Cinna to confirm. He nods and gives us a thumbs up right before we head out into the city.

The Capitol people immediately go nuts about our costumes. I see Katniss and I on a giant television screen and realize that these costumes really are going to make us unforgettable. Good. We need sponsors if I’m going to get Katniss home. Katniss is shaking a little, but I am frozen in place. I swear, if I move an inch, I will tumble right out of this chariot and ruin everything. We’re both waving to the crowd, but Katniss even begins blowing kisses and I have to smile at that. She’s the most standoffish person I’ve ever met, and now she’s blowing kisses at strangers.

Honestly, the only thing keeping me grounded in this chariot is holding her hand. It’s like my lifeline. The people of the Capitol are shouting our names, both our first names, but I can hardly focus on that. So I keep a smile plastered on my face and try to enjoy the moment where I am actually having physical contact with Katniss Everdeen. I realize she’s trying to loosen her grip on my hand, but I just clutch it tighter. “No, don’t let go of me,” I practically beg. “Please. I might fall out of this thing.” Truthfully, that was only half my worry. I never wanted to let go of her. “Okay,” she says, sounding utterly unsuspicious. Thank goodness. I haven’t completely formulated my plan yet.

After what seems like ten lifetimes, we reach the end of the City Circle and reach our prep teams, who babble on and on about how wonderful we were and how good we looked. Portia and Cinna help us out of the chariot and extinguish the flames, but I am still holding Katniss’ hand. I sorely regret when she pulls away, but my hand does hurt from how tightly she was holding on to me. Does that mean anything to her or was she just nervous?

“Thanks for keeping hold of me. I was getting a little shaky there,” I attempt to cover myself. She falls for it. “It didn’t show. I’m sure no one noticed.” I bet no one was looking at me because of how dazzling Katniss was. “I’m sure they didn’t notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often. They suit you,” I tell her honestly with a smile.  A ghost of a smile appears on her face for just a moment before she composes herself just enough to kiss me on the cheek, right where Haymitch punched me. I can’t form any coherent thoughts. She just kissed me.


	6. Chapter 6

In the Training Center, we get our own floor, number twelve, and have the privilege of riding the elevator all the way to the top. We reach our destination shockingly fast. The one elevator in the mines back home has nothing on this contraption. Haymitch hasn’t made an appearance, but Effie Trinket is in a very good mood, shuffling us from place to place in a perfectly punctual fashion.

She confides how she’s been trying to get us sponsors. “I’ve been very mysterious though. Because, of course, Haymitch hasn’t bothered to tell me your strategies.” I can’t help but wonder, what strategies? Effie continues. “But I’ve done my best with what I’ve had to work with. How Katniss sacrificed herself for her sister. How you’ve both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district.”

Our district barbaric? Says the woman about to send us off to be killed on national television. “Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district. But I said, and this was very clever of me, I said, ‘Well if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls!’” Effie smiles so brilliantly Katniss and I immediately begin to congratulate her on her cleverness, even though I’m stifling a laugh. Pearls come from shellfish, not coal. Shows how smart people are here in the Capitol.

“Unfortunately, I can’t seal the sponsor deals for you. Only Haymitch can do that,” Effie grimaces. “But don’t worry, I’ll get him to that table at gunpoint if necessary.” I can’t help but think of the image of Effie Trinket, with all her frilly outfits, brandishing a gun. Once again, I have to prevent myself from laughing so everyone won’t think I’m insane. Though I’m starting to have doubts myself.

My room is indescribably huge, and have so many buttons to push I am sorely tempted to push them all. I spend a good few hours just pushing buttons to see what they did. Then I get bored of button pushing and wander out to the main area where I find Cinna and Portia sitting on the couch, idly chatting. Portia seems a lot more alive when she’s talking to Cinna, and it’s completely obvious. I really hope I don’t appear that obvious to Katniss. Well, if I did, she probably wouldn’t have anything to do with me. Not that she really does as is.

Portia reluctantly gets up to converse with Effie, and Cinna comes my way and looks me over. Smiling, he asks if I’ve seen the roof yet. I shake my head and he leads the way up. “Nice place to talk, up here,” he hints. “You know, in case you don’t want to be overheard.” I frown. “Why do you think I wouldn’t want to be overheard?” Cinna shrugs but looks at me with an intensity that’s slightly unnerving. “I like to think up here.”

I honestly wonder what kinds of thoughts run through this man’s head. And I suspect he knows that I like Katniss and that I’m trying to figure out a way to save her. The thought is disconcerting. I don’t like it one bit. I don’t want anyone in on my plan until I have it completely figured out myself. After standing up there in awkward silence, both clearly deep in thought, Cinna speaks up. “We should probably get down to dinner.” I agree wholeheartedly.

Once we get downstairs, Cinna makes a beeline for Portia and I smile a little, following only because I have nothing better to do. We all end up looking out at the horizon on the balcony until Katniss arrives for dinner. I can tell that things won’t go smoothly once Haymitch shows up, but dinner is practically a planning meeting. I need to get Haymitch alone somehow to figure out what to do with my half-baked idea, but the time hasn’t presented itself yet.

Everyone is making small talk as Katniss and I begin to stuff ourselves. The servers, all silent and dressed in white, flit to and from the table offering us more food and beverages. As everyone is chatting about the interview costumes that are yet to come, a giant cake is set on the table and lit up with flames for a minute until it flickers out. “What makes it burn?” Katniss asks warily. “Is it alcohol? That’s the last thing I wa-oh! I know you!” She exclaims, startling the silent serving girl, who immediately shakes her head and scurries away.

The adults are all looking at Katniss in horror, and I am beginning to worry about the looks on their faces. “Don’t be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox? The very thought,” Effie sniffs in disdain. “What’s an Avox?” she asks before I get the chance to. There’s a lot we don’t know about this alien world. Haymitch speaks up. “Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue out so she can’t speak. She’s probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you’d know her.”

“And even if you did, you’re not to speak to one of them unless it’s to give an order,” Effie says sharply. “Of course you don’t really know her.” Katniss is floundering, that much is obvious. “No, I guess not, I just-” she stammers. I have to help her before she gets herself into trouble. I snap my fingers. “Delly Cartwright.” What? It’s the first name that popped into my head. “That’s who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized she’s a dead ringer for Delly.”

Katniss shoots me the briefest of grateful glances. “Of course, that’s who I was thinking of. It must be the hair.” “Something about the eyes, too,” I add, trying to diffuse the tension at the table. Everyone immediately relaxes, myself included. “Oh, well. If that’s all it is,” Cinna says before changing the subject. “And yes, the cake has spirits, but all the alcohol has burned off. I ordered it specially in honor of your fiery debut.”

We all eat the cake in silence before moving to watch the replay of the opening ceremonies. None of the other tribute pairs make quite as much of an impact as we did, I am pleased to say. “Whose idea was the hand holding?” Haymitch asks. “Cinna’s,” Portia says proudly. Haymitch smirks. “Just the perfect touch of rebellion. Very nice.” Rebellion? Well, I guess everyone else was ignoring their district partner.

“Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I’ll tell you exactly how I want you to play it,” Haymitch orders us. “Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk.” We walk down the hallway together, but my curiosity is getting the best of me. I have to know how Katniss ended up knowing someone the Capitol branded a traitor. Because that server girl looked absolutely nothing like my old friend Delly.

I lean up against the doorframe to her room in an attempt to stop her and get her to talk. “So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here.” Katniss bites her lip, seeming torn. What Cinna said about the roof immediately pops into my mind. “Have you been on the roof yet?” I ask and she shakes her head. “Cinna showed me. You can practically see the whole city. The wind’s a bit loud, though.” I hope she picks up on my hint, that we probably won’t be overheard up there.

She seems to be warming up to the idea. “Can we just go up?” “Sure, come on,” I tell her as I lead her to the stairs that go up to the roof. Katniss seems in awe of the view. It is pretty spectacular, seeing all those lights. We walk over to the railing at the edge of the rood and just listen to the sounds of the city.

“I asked Cinna why they let us up here,” I say. “Weren’t they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump over the side?” Katniss seems intrigued. “What’d he say?” “You can’t,” I tell her and put my hand out into the force field until it zaps back. “Some kind of electric field throws you back onto the roof.” “Always worried about our safety,” Katniss mutters. “Do you think they’re watching us now?”

I shrug. I hadn’t really thought about it. “Maybe. Come see the garden.” It is windy out, so hopefully the noise will be drowned out as she tells me her story. I am dying to know. She examines a flower as she begins. “We were hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game.” “You and your father?” I ask in a whisper. She shakes her head. “No, my friend Gale.” I am immediately struck by jealousy but let her continue as if nothing had happened.

“Suddenly all the birds stopped singing at once. Except one. As if it were giving a warning call. And then we saw her. I’m sure it was the same girl. A boy was with her. Their clothes were tattered. They had dark circles under their eyes from no sleep. They were running as if their lives depended on it,” she says, pausing a moment as if lost in thought before continuing. “The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere. I mean, one moment the sky was empty and the next it was there. It didn’t make a sound, but they saw it. A net dropped down on the girl and carried her up, fast, so fast like the elevator. They show some sort of spear through the boy. It was attached to a cable and they hauled him up as well. But I’m certain he was dead. We heard the girl scream once. The boy’s name, I think. Then it was gone, the hovercraft. Vanished into thin air. And the birds began to sing again, as if nothing had happened.”

I don’t even know what to think after hearing this, so I say the first stupid question that pops into my head. “Did they see you?” “I don’t know. We were under a shelf of rock,” she says almost convincingly. But I know there’s something she isn’t telling me. But why would she? When we’re headed to our imminent deaths, why would she trust me? Looking over at her, she is shaking like a leaf, and I feel a surge of compassion for her.

“You’re shivering,” I state the obvious. Thinking fast, I remove my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. She hesitates a moment, but lets me, and I’m satisfied. “They’re from here?” I ask. She nods wordlessly. “Where do you suppose they were going?” Katniss seems confused. “I don’t know that. Or why they would leave here.”

As she said that, all my anxiety about being in the Games, about dying, about becoming a monster then dying, about losing Katniss, about everything, really overwhelms me. “I’d leave here!” bursts from my mouth without warning. Realizing I had said that really loudly, I try to cover up. “I’d go home now if they let me. But you have to admit, the food’s prime.”

Realizing how stupid I’d been for nearly ruining it for the both of us, I decide to go to bed. “It’s getting chilly. We better go in.” But the jealousy is raging inside me. I try to make my tone light as I ask. “Your friend Gale. He’s the one who took your sister away at the reaping?” I already knew this, but I had to double check. “Yes. Do you know him?” she asks. Know of him. Know how he steals the hearts of all the girls around me. Including Rosemary Pritchett’s. “Not really,” I say casually. “I hear the girls talk about him a lot. I thought he was your cousin or something. You favor each other.”

“No, we’re not related,” Katniss says, and my worst suspicions have been proved true. “Did he come to say goodbye to you?” Katniss eyes me strangely and I hope I didn’t give anything away. “Yes,” she answers. “So did your father. He brought me cookies.” I raise my eyebrows at this. My father didn’t say anything about going to visit Katniss. It makes sense though in a weird way I guess. He was the one who pointed her out to me all the way back on the first day of school after all.

“Really?” I ask. “Well, he likes you and your sister. I think he wishes he had a daughter instead of a houseful of boys.” Really I think he just wishes he had married Katniss’ mother when he had the chance. From the way he treats the Everdeens, it’s pretty obvious he’s still in love with her. I can’t really blame him. My mother isn’t exactly the most lovable person on the planet.

“He knew your mother when they were kids,” I say nonchalantly, not wanting to betray my father’s confidence. “Oh, yes. She grew up in town,” Katniss says. “See you in the morning then.” She hands me back my jacket and I walk off towards my room. “See you.” I can’t help but wonder why the men in my family have the problem of falling for Everdeen women who just don’t want anything to do with them.


	7. Chapter 7

Waking up this morning is miserable. I’ve been tossing and turning all night thinking about what Katniss told me about that Avox girl. I try to calm myself by taking a shower, which helps a little, but I end up nearly gagging on that rose perfume yet again. What is it with the Capitol and roses? Don’t they have any other scent of soap?

Once I’m dry I see that an outfit has been laid out for me already. I find this a little strange, but oddly, I’ve learned to trust Portia, and by extension, Cinna, so I let it slide. As I leave my room, I run into Haymitch in the hall. Seeing this as my only chance, I blurt it out. “Haymitch, I want to save Katniss in the arena. Please.”

He gives me a look I can’t really place. “You want to sacrifice your chances of winning for her?” I nod. “Please. Help me.” We arrive in the dining room and he whispers, “We’ll discuss this later.” I find myself smiling a little as I see what Katniss is doing. She’s dipping bits of roll in hot chocolate, just like I did before on the tribute train. I guess I’ve made slightly more of an impression than I’d thought. I also have to stop myself from laughing when I see Katniss is in an outfit identical to mine. I can’t help but wonder what Cinna’s plan is for all of this.

Once Haymitch has eaten his breakfast, he turns to us and gives me a meaningful look. “So, let’s get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I’ll coach you separately. Decide now.” My heart thumps unevenly as Katniss asks a question. This could be my only chance to spend time with her before I die. “Why would you coach us separately?” Haymitch shrugs. “Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about.”

Katniss and I exchange a glance. I am really hoping her skill with a bow and arrow doesn’t make her think we should be trained separately. “I don’t have any secret skills,” I say truthfully. “And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I’ve eaten enough of your squirrels.” She looks oddly surprised, but settles on an answer. “You can coach us together.” I nod weakly in relief, thinking how grateful I am I won’t have to train alone. It’ll be bad enough I have to go through this at all.

“All right, so give me some idea of what you can do,” Haymitch says boredly. My heart sinks. I can’t do anything worth mentioning. I’m not of much use to this team. “I can’t do anything. Unless you count baking bread.” Haymitch ignores the self-pity in my voice. “Sorry, I don’t. Katniss. I already know you’re handy with a knife.” She looks almost embarrassed. “Not really. But I can hunt. With a bow and arrow.” “And you’re good?” Haymitch asks.

She looks like she actually has to think about it. Who is she trying to kid? She’s an amazing hunter. I’ve seen what she can do. I’m shocked when she says, “I’m all right.” “She’s excellent,” I tell Haymitch. He needs to know exactly what she’s capable of so he can help me help her. “My father buys her squirrels. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits every one in the eye. It’s the same with the rabbits she sells the butcher. She can even bring down deer.”

Once my father bought a few venison steaks from Rooba, the butcher, as a special treat for Anton’s birthday. When we went to the butcher’s and asked where she got the venison, she just smiled, and said, “That Katniss Everdeen sure knows how to shoot.” I half smile at the memory before I realize Katniss is scowling at me. “What are you doing?”

Is she seriously doubting my motives for telling Haymitch all of this? “What are you doing? If he’s going to help you, he has to know what you’re capable of. Don’t underrate yourself.” This seems to make her madder. “What about you?” she demands. “I’ve seen you in the market. You can lift hundred-pound bags of flour. Tell him that. That’s not nothing.”

Two parts of me are at war. On the one hand, a warm fuzzy feeling is filling my stomach. She’s noticed me. On the other hand, she seems to think I am capable of winning. That’s not true. I am going to lose, and so help me, when I go down I want to make sure she gets back to her family. Besides, she actually does have me topped in the skill category. What use is being strong?

“Yes, and I’m sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people,” I say sarcastically. My sarcastic side rarely manifests itself but I’m really getting steamed. “It’s not like being able to use a weapon. You know it isn’t.” Katniss turns to Haymitch. “He can wrestle. He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother.”

Anton still hadn’t let that go. But what use is it? Wrestling won’t save me! “What use is that? How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death?” “There’s always hand-to-hand combat. All you need is to come up with a knife, and you’ll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I’m dead!” Katniss says furiously. I refuse to even think about the possibility. She’s better than that. I find myself getting angrier until I let slip some things I didn’t mean to let out.

“But you won’t! You’ll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking people off with arrows. You know what my mother said to me when she came to say goodbye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized, she didn’t mean me, she meant you!” I immediately wish I could take that back. I don’t want Katniss to know about my mother. I don’t want her feeling sorry for me. I do my best to prevent myself from crying but I’m not doing a very good job.

Katniss waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, she meant you.” “She said, ‘She’s a survivor, that one.’ _She_ is,” I mutter. Katniss is momentarily shocked into silence. When she finally speaks up, she sounds embarrassed. “But only because someone helped me.” She remembers the bread I gave her, the one that resulted in a beating. Why would she remember that? It was so long ago.   I shrug these thoughts off and try to appear as nonchalant as possible. “People will help you in the arena. They’ll be tripping over each other to sponsor you.”

Cinna’s costume made Katniss unforgettable. I know she’ll do well in training. The people of the Capitol love her already. “No more than you,” she says and I roll my eyes at this. Not a chance. People only know me because I was standing next to her. “She has no idea. The effect she can have,” I say, internally cursing myself for letting that thought escape. I can’t bear to look her in the eye in case she caught on to what I really meant.

When I finally look up, she’s scowling fiercely. I am almost relieved she seems to have taken it the wrong way. I’m still safe. “Well, then. Well, well, well,” Haymitch says. “Katniss, there’s no guarantee there’ll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?” “I know a few basic snares,” she mutters.

“That may be significant in terms of food.” Haymitch turns his attention to me. “And, Peeta, she’s right, never underestimate strength in the arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player. The plan’s the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend the time trying to learn something you don’t know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you’re best at until your private sessions. Are we clear?”

We both nod. Haymitch continues. “One last thing. In public, I want you by each other’s side every minute.” Katniss is in such a surly mood and after the fight at the table just now, I’m near positive she hates me. Besides, it’ll be a lot easier to slip up if I’m in her presence constantly. I can’t let her know of the plan yet. As we both protest, Haymitch slams his fist on the table with an intensity I’ve never seen in him before. “Every minute! It’s not open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training.”

Katniss immediately turns on her heel and stalks down the hall, slamming the door behind her. I sigh and head back to my room as well. Here I am, allowing myself to die to save this grouch. _It’s your own fault,_ a voice in my head says. _You’re the one who wanted her to live._ I still do. The problem is I am pretty sure Katniss wants me dead. It’s a lot harder to plan to sacrifice yourself for someone you know hates you.

When it’s time to meet Effie, I am nearing a full-out panic. Shortly after breakfast I had begun to worry about meeting the other tributes. Most of them could probably snap me like a twig. I almost understand why Katniss is so worried about being jumped. Then I push the thought from my mind. District Twelve is going to have a winner, just like my mother said. And I’m not planning on it being me.

The training rooms are in the basement of the Training Center, and seeing all those tributes again is terrifying. Numbers are pinned to our backs and the head trainer, Atala, begins explaining the training schedule. The tributes from districts 1, 2, and 4-the Careers as we call them back home-are glaring at us. Especially Katniss. They are going to be tough competition. One of them wins it almost every year. My heart sinks. Seeing all of these tough looking tributes makes me hope my death is quick. Some of them look like they want to make each death in the arena slow and painful.

Katniss seems tense, and when I nudge her arm she jumps almost a foot in the air. I am too nervous even to laugh. “Where would you like to start?” I ask. Seeing myself being upstaged by her for the next three days isn’t going to help my self-esteem. “Suppose we tie some knots,” she suggests and I go for it. “Right you are,” I say in monotone. I really want this day to be over with. I want everything to just be done already. Why don’t they just kill me now and spare me the torture of waiting?

The knot master is enthusiastic about Katniss’ knowledge of snares and shows her a way to leave someone dangling by their ankle from a tree. I doubt I could pull that off. The knots are too intricate. I get excited when we go to the camouflage station. It’s not that much different than doing the cakes back home. I’m overwhelmed with a wave of homesickness when I see the trainer admiring my work. “I do the cakes,” I have to tell someone. Katniss is distracted. “The cakes? What cakes?” “At home, the iced ones for the bakery,” I admit.

Thinking about home and cakes reminds me of my brothers and my father and even my mother and I want to be back home desperately. But right now, I can’t afford to think like that. “It’s lovely,” Katniss says annoyed, in reference to the design on my arm. “If only you could frost something to death.” If only I could. Then I could actually go home and leave this frustrating girl here. But in my heart I know I could never do that. These Games are making me selfish already, already turning me into something I’m not.

I don’t want to do that, so I make a joke. “Don’t be so superior. You can never tell what you’ll find in the arena. Say it’s actually a gigantic cake-” Katniss cuts me off. “Say we move on.” The next three days, we actually manage to learn some life-saving skills. Lunches are awkward though. Everyone sits alone, except for the Careers, and Katniss and I.

I can tell she really doesn’t want to talk, which makes me both sad and angry. I’m on the brink of death. The least she can do is pretend she’s enjoying talking to me. I want to tell her everything about my life, but at the same time, I don’t. Even thinking about home is unbearable and I don’t want to burst out crying in front of all these people who want to kill me.

One day I show her all the breads from the different districts. In the face of death, when I finally get a chance to interact with the girl I love, I end up talking about bread. Stupid. “And there you have it,” I say as I scoop all the bread types back into the basket after a pretty lackluster conversation. “You certainly know a lot,” Katniss says. I can’t tell if her tone is mocking me. “Only about bread,” I mumble. “Okay, now laugh as if I’ve said something funny.”

We both laugh somewhat convincingly and everyone around the room stares at us. “All right, I’ll keep smiling pleasantly and you talk,” I say. Talking to Katniss is both a blessing and a curse because I know it’s fake, but at the same time I’m desperately wishing it’s real. If only I’d really gotten to know her back home. We could have talked about our families without it hurting and joked about the little things in life sincerely. More than anything I wanted to really make her laugh, but since she slammed the door on me, I’ve known what she really thinks of me.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I was chase by a bear?” Katniss asks. Of course she didn’t. We aren’t friends. “No, but it sounds fascinating,” I say sincerely.  Katniss is a good story teller. I find myself actually laughing and asking questions just like if I were talking to Delly or Anton back home.

On the second day, we’re at the spear throwing station when I notice the little girl tribute, the one from District 11 is watching us. She’d been doing it on and off the last two days and I was wondering why. “I think we have a shadow,” I whisper to Katniss. The little girl isn’t scary in the slightest, but seeing her watching me makes me slightly uncomfortable. “I think her name’s Rue.” “What can we do about it?” Katniss growls. She’s probably thinking of the girl’s resemblance to her sister. “Nothing to do,” I sigh. “Just making conversation.”

Dinners are miserable. Haymitch and Effie go on and on about what we’re doing wrong and ask barrages of questions about training. Can they just give it a rest? Katniss is getting moodier, and I can’t say I blame her. When we finally escape dinner the second night, I mutter, “Someone ought to get Haymitch a drink.” He’s way more uptight now, and honestly, I sort of preferred him drunk. At least then he was funny. Katniss actually snorts. But then she frowns. “Don’t. Don’t let’s pretend when there’s no one around.”

I knew that our conversations were all a result of Haymitch’s order to look like friends, but this stings me nonetheless. Why did this have to happen to me? What have I ever done to make the odds be so against me? “All right, Katniss,” I say, exhausted and fed up with life. After that, we only talk in front of people, even though there were so many things I wish I could say.

On the third day of training, when it is finally time for District 12 to be seen, they call me in. “Remember what Haymitch said about being sure to throw the weights,” Katniss blurts. I give her a wry smile. No one is watching is now and she still wishes me luck? “Thanks, I will. You…” My words failed me. “Shoot straight.” She nods, and I square my shoulders and head into the room that decides my fate, sponsor wise.

The Gamemakers seem tired and drunk and I frown. They don’t even seem to be paying attention to me. My life is on the line and they don’t even bother paying attention? I’m so mad that I lose focus and nearly drop one of the stupid weights on my foot. I really hope no one saw that. After throwing a few more of the giant, heavy balls onto targets I am dismissed, angry at the Gamemakers but mostly angry at myself for messing up.


	8. Chapter 8

I’m “relaxing” in the sitting room after my debut in front of the Gamemakers idly chatting with Haymitch when Katniss bursts into the room, to my utter shock, crying. I call out to her, unable to stop myself from showing concern, but she ignores all of us and locks herself in her room. We can still hear muffled sobs from outside the door.

“What happened?” I whisper to Effie, who shoos me away. I go reluctantly, but figure she doesn’t want anything to do with me anyway. I try to watch the hustle and bustle of the city from out the window, but I can’t concentrate because I can hear Haymitch and Effie trying to get Katniss to come out. Eventually, they give up.

I pretty much end up going back and forth between worrying about Katniss and worrying about my training score until dinner. When Katniss leaves her room, she looks terrible. It’s obvious she’s been crying, but she doesn’t look like she wants to talk about it. Katniss refuses to look at anyone for a while, but when she finally looks up, I ask her a silent question of what happened by raising my eyebrows. She just shakes her head. Of course she wouldn’t want to tell me. She doesn’t trust me.

Haymitch finally speaks up. “Okay, enough small talk, just how bad were you today?” To spare Katniss from having to talk first, I speak up. “I don’t know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think. So, I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go.” “And you, sweetheart?” Haymitch asks Katniss.

She finally speaks. “I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers.” I nearly choke on my soup. “You what?” Effie asks in horror. “I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. It’s like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just…I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig’s mouth!” she finishes with a note of defiance in her voice.

I am stunned at her bravery. I wish I’d had the guts to show the Gamemakers what I felt. But the real question is will this hurt her? “And what did they say?” Cinna asks wearily. “Nothing. I don’t know. I walked out after that,” Katniss admits. “Without being dismissed?” Effie gasps. I love how Effie’s biggest concern at this point is manners. “I dismissed myself,” Katniss says nervously.

“Well, that’s that,” Haymitch says as he calmly butters another roll. “Do you think they’ll arrest me?” Katniss asks. “Doubt it. Be a pain to replace you at this stage,” Haymitch says. “What about my family? Will they punish them?” Katniss asks almost frantically. That must have been what she was crying about. Katniss never worries about herself. It’s all about her family. I respect her for that.

“Don’t think so,” Haymitch continues. “Wouldn’t make much sense. See, they’d have to reveal what happened in the Training Center for it to have any worthwhile effect on the population. People would need to know what you did. But they can’t since it’s a secret, so it’d be a waste of effort. More likely they’ll make your life hell in the arena.” I’m relieved at Haymitch’s logic, and I think Katniss is too. “We’ll they’ve already promised to do that to us anyway,” I point out. “Very true,” says Haymitch. “What were their faces like?”

Katniss actually smiles. “Shocked. Terrified. Uh, ridiculous, some of them. One man tripped backward into a bowl of punch.” Haymitch bursts out laughing and everyone follows his example, minus Effie, who is trying not to smile. “Well, it serves them right. It’s their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District 12 is no excuse to ignore you.” Effie seems nervous, like she said the wrong thing. “I’m sorry, but that’s what I think.” I’m oddly touched by the fact that Effie actually seems to care for us a little. She’s proven she actually has an opinion on something other than shoes.

“I’ll get a very bad score,” Katniss says. To my surprise, the ever shy Portia speaks up to comfort her. “Scores only matter if they’re very good, no one pays attention to the bad or mediocre ones. For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy.” That makes me feel better, too. “I hope that’s how people will interpret the four I’ll probably get. If that. Really, is anything less impressive than watching a person pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple of yards.” I nearly blush thinking about the incident. “One nearly landed on my foot.”

Katniss grins at me and digs into her food and I can’t help but return the smile. Well, at least I managed to cheer her up a bit. She looks so much nicer when she’s smiling. I think about this until our scores are broadcasted on the television. To my utter shock, I got an eight. An eight! That’s better than most of the tributes! I revel in my success for only a moment, because then Katniss’ score flashes across the screen. An eleven. I have never seen ANYONE get an eleven in any Games. See, I knew she was special.

Everyone goes nuts, but Katniss seems bewildered. “There must be a mistake. How…how could that happen?” “Guess they liked your temper,” Haymitch tells her. “They’ve got a show to put on. They need some players with some heat. Cinna hugs her. “Katniss, the girl who was on fire. Oh, wait until you see your interview dress.” “More flames?” Katniss asks. “Of a sort,” he says mysteriously.

I congratulate Katniss on her success, and she awkwardly returns the congratulations. We’ve both scored well. Well, I’ve scored well, she’s scored amazingly. I can’t fall asleep because I’m thinking about training scores. With that eleven, Katniss is bound to get lots of sponsors. That makes it easier. But it also makes her a bigger target. My eight makes me a pretty big target as well.

The next morning, I get up early to have a nice talk with Haymitch. He’s sitting bleary eyed on one of the couches in the sitting area. “Haymitch, I have a plan for the interview tomorrow night,” I say nervously. It came to me the night before as I was stuck in bed unable to sleep. I laid out my plan to him and he gave me a look. “You realize she’ll probably hate you for this.” I shrug as if it’s nothing, even though the thought has crossed my mind. “She probably already does. But think about it, won’t this help?”

Haymitch ponders this a moment. “Well, it will make her absolutely unforgettable. And you know, with her sunny personality, she’ll need all the help she can get for the interviews.” I don’t want to agree with this statement, but I have to admit she’s been getting grouchier and grouchier the longer we’ve been in the Capitol. She hates being here even more than I do, and it shows.

Haymitch nods. “Yes. I’ll help you. But you realize this is going to be hard to keep from her.” A lump formed in my throat. She’d never go along with it if she knew. But it was her best chance, so I had to do it. Plus…plus I really wanted her to know how I felt before I died. Even though she didn’t feel the same way. She had Gale. And darn it, I was going to get her home to him and her sister if it killed me. Which it would.

“I’ll have to be coached separately,” I say miserably. No more time with her. Not that our time together had been perfect or real in any way. But sometimes…every once in a while she gives me a genuine smile that makes my stomach do flips and I wonder if she really hates me as much as she lets on. Haymitch claps me on the shoulder. “Yes you will. Now, it’s nearly time for breakfast. We’ll have to fill Effie in on the latest. Let’s go.”

We head over to the table and tell Effie the plan. We’re still whispering together when Katniss shows up and begins shoveling in food. “So what’s going on? You’re coaching us on interviews today, right?” She is in as good a mood I’ve ever seen her and I almost want to tell her the truth. Instead, I keep my eyes fixated on my plate. “That’s right,” Haymitch says without elaborating further.

“You don’t have to wait until I’m done. I can listen and eat at the same time,” Katniss says. “Well, there’s been a change of plans. About our current approach,” Haymitch hedges and I want to flee the room more than anything. I don’t want to see the look on her face. “What’s that?” she asks, confused. From the corner of my eye, I see Haymitch shrug. “Peeta has been asked to be coached separately.”


	9. Chapter 9

The room is silent for several moments. I can’t force myself to look up. Finally, Katniss says coolly, “Good. So what’s the schedule?” I’m not sure whether or not to feel relieved she’s taking it so well.

“You’ll each have four hours with Effie for presentation and four with me for content. You start with Effie, Katniss,” Haymitch directs.

Katniss is shuffled out the door without another glance in my direction and Haymitch turns his full attention to me. “Alright, so what’s your angle?”

I am confused by this. “What do you mean?”

“How do you want to play this?” he asks. “You can’t just randomly declare your love for Katniss Everdeen in front of all of Panem. There needs to be a buildup. Background. You need to manipulate the interview so it makes more sense.”

My heart sinks. This is going to be harder than I thought. How am I going to manipulate an interview in front of the entire county? “Umm…” I trail off.

Haymitch smirks. “Come on, show me this isn’t a waste of my time.”

I square my shoulders and try to think. I come up with absolutely nothing. “I’m no good at this, Haymitch. It’s so different from talking to people back home.”

He looks at me through narrowed eyes. “But you do talk to people back home?”

I shrug. “Well, I have a lot of friends if that’s what you mean.” My lunch table had always been one of the busier ones at school and I’d never had trouble finding partners for projects. But what good was that going to do me here?

“Just act like you would around them then. Caesar Flickerman is relatively easy to work with. Just talk to him normally, for starters. You can be charming. Find a segue,” Haymitch says.

What segue? I voice my concerns and we discuss various options for the next hour. Eventually we’ve both relaxed enough that we’re joking together about who knows what. Why? I’m not sure. But with so little time left in my life, I don’t really care why I’m laughing. It’s just nice that I had the opportunity for it.

Working with Effie is a different experience. She keeps telling me to stop fiddling with my hands, sit up straight, and keep smiling no matter what. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a relatively happy person, but it’s hard to smile when you know you’re headed to your doom and all the people you’re smiling at are eagerly waiting for your death. I grit my teeth and listen to Effie’s comments with my smile painfully plastered on my face. I need to be as cooperative as possible and just get this stupid interview behind me.

My bad mood worsens when Katniss isn’t at dinner. What did I expect? I’m the one who said I wanted to be coached separately. I shouldn’t be offended that she doesn’t want to be around me. I tell myself that it’s easier for me to do what I’m about to do without looking at her and feeling flustered and help myself to three large helpings of everything at the table.

The next morning I wake up with my prep team leaning over me. “Get up!” Amaryllis squawks. “We need to get you ready for your interview!”

Groaning, I sit up on the bed and they half-drag me from the room. I’m not fully conscious as they remake me to their ridiculous beauty standards. As Haymitch said on the train, I don’t protest. Then again I doubt I’d be able to anyway. My sleepy mind is beginning to swirl half-formed thoughts around about the interview.

Once the initial prepping has been done, Portia comes in with a garment bag slung over her arm. “I have your interview costume,” she says in her normal reserved manner. “Would you like to see it?”

I’m not really, but I like Portia so I agree and move closer as she opens the bag. Inside is a black suit with flame accents running up the sleeves, on the lapels, and down the sides of the pants. “It looks great, Portia,” I tell her sincerely as I put it on. Apparently we’re sticking with the fire theme. I don’t mind this.

She flushes with pleasure as she makes some final adjustments to my costume. “You’re going to do great out there.”

I give her one last small smile as we walk towards the rest of our group. Katniss looks dazzling in a dress covered in jewels. When she moves the jewels make it seem like she’s wearing flames. I want to compliment her but I can’t get the words to come out of my mouth. I’m beginning to worry I won’t even be able to speak when the interview begins.

Before we head onto the stage, Haymitch appears suddenly behind the two of us and snarls, “Remember, you’re still a happy pair. So act like it.” Shoot. Well, this is sort of necessary to my strategy, but with the looks Katniss is giving me, I’m not sure what I should do. We don’t really have a chance to talk anyway as we walk single file to our seats. The show is about to begin.

I try to concentrate on the other tributes’ interviews with Caesar but it’s difficult with how much I am thinking of what I am about to do. As the districts slip by me and my time approaches, I try really hard to remember what Effie told me about eye contact and smiling. I need to make a good impression on the audience if this is going to work.

Finally, it’s Katniss’ turn. “So Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change from District Twelve. What’s impressed you most since you got here?” Caesar Flickerman asks.

There is a pause before Katniss says, “The lamb stew.” Caesar and some of the audience laughs and I find myself grinning. I remember how she really shoveled that in the first time we had it. _Come on, Katniss,_ I encourage her mentally. _Keep it up._

“The one with the dried plums?” Caesar asks. “Oh, I eat it by the bucketful. It doesn’t show does it?” More laughter from the audience. Katniss’ interview seems to be going well so far and I’m relieved. At the same time, I’m terrified, because once hers is over, I’m up.

“Now Katniss,” Caesar continues. “When you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?”

“You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?” she asks. I grin widely. We were both afraid of that.

“Yes, start then,” Caesar says.

“I thought Cinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous costume I’d ever seen and I couldn’t believe I was wearing it. I can’t believe I’m wearing this, either. I mean, look at it!” she says, gesturing to her dress. Then Katniss begins twirling. I’m as transfixed as the Capitol audience as I watch her spin. Cinna really is a magician.

“Oh do that again!” Caesar insists, and she complies once before stopping. “Don’t stop!” he says.

“I have to! I’m dizzy!” Katniss giggles. I’ve never seen her giggle before. Laugh once or twice. But not in a girly way like that. It’s disconcerting.

Caesar puts an arm around her shoulders and I feel a twinge of jealousy that I have to suppress. Relax, Peeta. He’s just doing it so she won’t fall over. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Can’t have you following in your mentor’s footsteps.” The cameras turn towards Haymitch, who waves their attention back to Katniss.

Has it really only been two minutes? It seems like it’s been forever. Yet, the interview continues. “It’s all right, she’s safe with me. So, how about that training score. E-le-ven. Give us a hint what happened there,” Caesar says.

Katniss shoots a worried glance at the Gamemakers. “Um…all I can say, is I think it was a first.” Part of me thinks she’s just being modest and underrating herself again but another part of me wonders if she’s thinking of something else. What I wouldn’t give to know what was going through her head for just a minute. Anything to distract me from the fact that I’d be on that stage in less than a minute.

“You’re killing us,” Caesar complains. “Details. Details.”

Katniss looks toward the Gamemakers again. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, right?”

“She’s not!” one of them yells out.

Katniss looks relieved. “Thank you. Sorry, my lips are sealed.”

Then the mood of the interview shifts when Caesar starts talking about her sister. “Let’s go back then, to the moment they called your sister’s name at the reaping. And you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?”

Katniss hesitates. “Her name’s Prim. She’s just twelve. And I love her more than anything.” I can feel my heart breaking. Prim is the reason she’s here in the first place. She must really love her sister to sacrifice everything for her. I can’t imagine anyone in my life loving me that much. I’m hit with the memory of how Anton apologized to me for not volunteering after the reaping and have to push it to the back of my mind. I need to focus. I’m almost up. While I wasn’t paying attention, the interview finished, and I hear the buzzer go off.

My heart in my throat, I put on my most winning smile-just like Effie taught me-and walk with as much confidence as I can muster to the stage. I do my best to talk to them like I’d talk to people back home. I compare the tributes to the breads from their districts, trying to convince myself that I was back in the Training Center talking about this with Katniss. I tell them about the issues I’ve had with rose-scented showers, like I would tell Anton. Caesar gets into it and we begin sniffing each other to see if we still smell like roses. People have been laughing the whole time. I take this as a good sign, but I don’t know if what I’m saying is helping me segue like I’m supposed to.

I almost sigh audibly in relief when Caesar takes the hint without it seeming unnatural. “So, Peeta. Do you have a girlfriend back home?”

I remember what Haymitch told me. I have to make this work. I shake my head quickly after hesitating a moment.

Caesar is unconvinced. The plan is working. “Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what’s her name?”

This time I really do sigh. Here goes everything. “Well there is this one girl,” I say honestly. “I’ve had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I’m pretty sure she didn’t know I was alive until the reaping.” I have to hold back my smile though as I recall a certain surprising conversation on the train. Katniss had paid me some attention over the years.

“She have another fellow?” Caesar asks sympathetically.   
            Yes. Gale. “I don’t know,” I lie. “But a lot of boys like her.” Actually, I don’t know how true this is. But it was part of my strategy. Haymitch said if I made her seem desirable she’d have a better chance of getting sponsors. This made me willing to stretch the truth. I glance at the clock. Now I’m getting worried that the time will be up before I’m able to get it out.

“So here’s what you do,” Caesar says. “You win, you go home. She can’t turn you down then, eh?”

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. But I’m genuinely embarrassed, now that I’m here. Was this really such a good idea after all? But I force myself to get it out. “I don’t think it’s going to work out. Winning…won’t help in my case.”

“Why ever not?” asks Caesar.

Now my embarrassment has mounted. I have to get it out now or I’ll lose my chance. Do it for her. Do it for Katniss! “Because…because…” I can’t do it. Finally, I blurt out. “She came here with me.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally decided to work on this for the first time in over a year. I got stuck on my original fic so I figured it'd be easier writing something that already had all the dialogue down and I was right. I'm looking for beta readers for my original project so if anyone's interested, please message me! One sentence summary: A female serial killer with a mission to save children will do anything to prevent her crimes from being discovered. My husband is the only one who's read it so far. He likes it but then again he likes ME so this must be taken with a grain of salt haha

I just said that. Out loud. In front of the entire country. My cheeks burn and I stare at my hands clenched in my lap.

“Oh, that is a piece of bad luck,” Caesar says in a pained voice. A few others in the crowd are making similar distressed noises. Good.

“It’s not good,” I agreed, still looking at my hands because I can’t bear to look up and see Katniss’ face.

“Well, I don’t think any of us can blame you. It’d be hard not to fall for that young lady,” Caesar says. “She didn’t know?”

I shake my head. “Not until now.” I’m focusing on Caesar now, still unable to bear glancing in Katniss’ direction. I have to keep my composure and don’t think I’d be able to do that if I had any idea what she was thinking.

“Wouldn’t you love to pull her back out here and get a response?” Caesar asks the audience, which responds loudly in affirmative. “Sadly, rules are rules and Katniss Everdeen’s time has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I thik I speak for all of Pane when I say our hearts go with yours.”

When the roar of the crowd finally quiets, I choke out a soft, “thank you” and return to my seat near Katniss.  I’m still not looking at her, waiting to see her reaction until we’re out of the public eye. I feel faint, but triumphant. I did it. For a few minutes, the Capitol audience was mine.

After the anthem ends, all of the tributes head back into the Training Center lobby and split into groups onto the elevators. I notice Katniss deliberately avoids the elevator I’m going up in. This doesn’t bode well, but maybe she’s waiting until we’re alone to talk about what I did too. Some of the other tributes glare at me but I smile back. Some of them are Careers and I want to be on their good side. I figure if anyone will be after Katniss, it’ll be the Careers, so I can help steer them away.

People steadily stream from the elevator as the floors pass until it’s only me. I’m barely stepping out onto the twelfth floor when a pair of strong hands slams into my chest. I’m so off guard that I smash into a vase, shattering it. I land in the pieces and rapidly begin losing blood. “What was that for?” I gape up at Katniss in shock. I’ve never seen her act like this.

“You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!” she shouts, fire in her eyes as she looms over me.

The elevator doors open again, revealing the rest of our entourage.

“What’s going on,” Effie asks shrilly. “Did you fall?”                          

“After she shoved me,” I say grumpily as Effie and Cinna haul me up by the arms.

Haymitch rounds on Katniss. “Shoved him?”

“This was your idea, wasn’t it?” she accuses. “Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country!”

I had not anticipated her being this upset. I try to diffuse as I painfully pull pieces of vase out of my palms. “It was my idea. Haymitch just helped me with it.”

“Yes, Haymitch is very helpful,” Katniss says stiffly. “To you!”

Haymitch eyes her in disgust. “You are a fool. Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you what you could never achieve on your own.”

“He made me look weak!”

“He made you look desirable! And let’s face it, you can use all the help you can get in that department. You were about as romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do. You’re all they’re talking about. The star-crossed lovers from District Twelve!” Haymitch insists.

“But we’re not star-crossed lovers!” Katniss protests, hands held wide.

Haymitch’s aggressive tactics to defend me are a bit alarming, as he grabs Katniss’ shoulders and pushes her into the wall. “Who cares? It’s all a big show. It’s all how you’re perceived. The most I could say about you after your interview was that you were nice enough, although that in and of itself was a small miracle. Now I can say you’re a heartbreaker. Oh, oh, oh, how the boys back home fall longingly at your feet. Which do you think will get you more sponsors?”

Katniss shoves Haymitch off of her and seems to be thinking things over. Meanwhile, I am still pulling bloody shards from my skin and finally starting to understand why she’s so upset about this. Gale. It has to be about Gale. Gale, like everyone else in our world, saw the interviews.

Cinna puts a comforting arm around Katniss’ shoulders as Portia sees I’m not getting anywhere and helps me try to get more porcelain out of my skin. “He’s right, Katniss.”

“I should have been told, so I didn’t look so stupid,” Katniss says finally.

“She’s just worried about her boyfriend,” I say gruffly, more than a little peeved I didn’t think of that earlier. Maybe that would have spared me from death-by-pottery. If we had clued her in…would she have gone for it?

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Katniss says blushingly. I knew it.

“Whatever,” I scoff. “But I bet he’s smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Besides, _you_ didn’t say you love _me_. So what does it matter?”

Katniss bites her lip, clearly torn. “After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him too?”

“I did,” Portia speaks up, continuing in her task. “The way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush.”

Everyone else agrees.

“You’re golden, sweetheart. You’re going to have sponsors lined up around the block,” Haymitch says.

Katniss finally looks at me, red-faced. “I’m sorry I shoved you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I shrug. I should have anticipated something like this would happen. I’d be mad too if she had tried to pull something on me that I wasn’t prepared for. “Although it’s technically illegal.”

“Are your hands okay?” she asks tentatively.

“They’ll be alright,” I say though I’m not sure. It took the course of the entire conversation to rid my hands of most of the pottery and I’m positive we missed some too small to see that’ll come back to haunt me later.

“Come on, let’s eat,” Haymitch says.

My stomach growls from the smells wafting from the kitchen. Maybe food will take my mind off the pain. That usually worked after Mother hit us. Rogerrik, Anton, and I used to sneak bits of semi-fresh pastry to share as we patched each other up. I’m about to sit down when I see my even more blood gushing out of my hands. I sway on the spot and Portia links arms with me to drag me off for medical treatment.

“I can’t believe she did that,” Portia says in hushed tones as the Training Center doctor stitches me up.

“I wouldn’t have either,” I mutter. Well, what’s done is done.

My hands are wrapped in bandages and the doctor says sternly, “Be more careful next time.” He had been told I tripped into the urn. “The stitches won’t leave a mark but it will take 24 hours to heal fully.” Great. I’ll be going into the arena with my hands hurting. Maybe they’ll kill me more quickly that way.

I’ve missed the first course of dinner but everything else is delicious, even though I struggle to hold any cutlery between my heavily bandaged hands. Afterwards we watch the recap of the interviews and I can’t help but wonder which of these people I’ll have to kill. The thought makes me sick.

After the anthem, we’re shuffled off to bed. I’m used to early mornings from the bakery but waking up early to go to your death…I’m never going to fall asleep.

Effie takes both Katniss and I by the hand and tearily says goodbye, thanking us for being the best tributes she’s ever had the privilege to sponsor. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if I finally get promoted to a decent district next year!” she finishes, kissing each of us on the cheek before hurrying away.

Haymitch crosses his arms and looks both of us over.

“Any final words of advice?” I dare to ask. Haymitch had his moments of helpfulness throughout this nightmare but…

He’s all business this time. “When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. You’re neither of you up to the blood bath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water. Got it?”

“And after that?” Katniss asks.

“Stay alive,” Haymitch echoes the advice he gave us on the train but he’s serious this time. Both of us nod. There isn’t really much else to say.

Katniss heads to her room but I wander over to Portia. I know I’ll see her in the morning right before heading into the arena, but she’s been so kind to me so I wish her goodnight and give her a brief hug. She manages to convey how much she’ll miss me by nearly squeezing me to death.

“I know it’ll be hard, but try to get some sleep,” she whispers. “You’ll need it.”

I nod solemnly and head to my room, knowing it will be impossible. After a luxurious shower, I put on soft pajama pants and a robe and head up to the roof. Staring out at the twinkling lights, bright colors, and loud noises of Capitol night life, I think about the life I might have had. If only I hadn’t been chosen. If only the Hunger Games didn’t exist. If only, if only, if only.

I’d never get to see Rogerrik and Maeve get married or be an uncle to their cute little blonde children. I’d never know if Anton finally won over Rosemary’s affections. I’d never smell baking bread or frost another cake, or see my father’s eyes light up as he tells me stories about Katniss’ mother, always out of my mother’s hearing. My family, who would have to see me kill other children on live television. What would they think of me?

Maybe Mother would finally think I’m strong. The thought disgusts me. No, of course she wouldn’t. Everyone in the districts hates the Hunger Games. She wouldn’t be proud of me killing. I would kill someone…and someone else would kill me. I was nothing more than a pawn in all this. Cheap entertainment. Was that really all I was meant to be? Live for sixteen years and lose myself and my life for someone else’s enjoyment? My thoughts go on like this for what could have been hours before I’m interrupted.

“You should be getting some sleep,” Katniss’ voice sounds from behind me.

I jump but don’t turn to look at her. I shake my head, gesturing to the streets below. “I didn’t want to miss the party. It’s for us, after all.” In the hours I’d sat here I’d been more than a little disgusted at how _excited_ the people below were for our impending deaths.

She comes closer and leans over the edge of the rail, seeing the people dancing in the streets. “Are they in costumes?”

“Who could tell? With all the crazy clothes they wear here. Couldn’t sleep either?”

“Couldn’t turn my mind off,” she admits.

“Thinking about your family?” I ask.

“No,” she says sheepishly. “All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course.” A pause as she looks me over. “I really am sorry about your hands.”

“It doesn’t matter, Katniss,” I say tiredly. “I’ve never been a contender in these Games anyway.”

“That’s no way to be thinking,” she scolds.

“Why not? It’s true. My best hope is to not disgrace myself and…” I hesitate, wondering if I should share some of the thoughts that have been torturing me the past few hours. If she’d laugh.

“And what?”

“I don’t know how to say it exactly. Only…I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?” She shakes her head no and I continue. “I don’t want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I’m not.”

She bites her lip before replying. “Do you mean you won’t kill anyone?”

“No, when the time comes, I’m sure I’ll kill just like everybody else,” I sigh. “I can’t go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to…to show the Capitol they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games.”

“But you’re not,” Katniss says. “None of us are. That’s how the Games work.”

She wasn’t getting it. Suddenly it was very important to me that she understood and I grew insistent. “Okay, but within that framework, there’s still you, there’s still me. Don’t you see?”

“A little. Only…no offense, but who cares, Peeta?”

I’m surprised by her answer and more than a little angry. I’m about to die and not losing myself is all I have left. “I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?”

The ferocity of my stare makes her take a step back. “Care about what Haymitch said. About staying alive.”

Like I’d really be able to stay alive for more than a few days against such terrible odds. I smirk at her. “Okay. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart.”

She recoils before starting back in on me angrily. “Look, if you want to spend the last hours of your life planning some noble death in the arena, that’s your choice. I want to spend mine in District Twelve.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if you do,” I say coolly, thinking of my mother’s parting words. “Give my mother my best when you make it back, will you?”

“Count on it,” she says haughtily before stalking off the roof.

I stare out at the city a few minutes longer before sighing in defeat. I really should at least try to sleep now that I’m more tired. That conversation exhausted me. Back in my room, I sleep more deeply than I thought I was capable of, given the circumstances, dreaming of home.

Portia shakes me awake, giving me simple undergarments to wear and I know it’s time to go. I’m led back to the roof and freeze as soon as I step onto the hovercraft ladder. Once I’m injected with my tracker, the current releases me and Portia and I sit down to eat.

She chatters on meaninglessly about the food as I practically inhale it. I’m not that hungry but I know I’ll need as much staying power as possible once I’m in the arena. I appreciate that she’s trying to distract me but I’m not processing a word she says. I’m about to die. I’m about to die. I’m about to probably kill someone and then I’m about to die.

Finally, we land and I feel sick. My hands are stiff, how on earth am I going to do this? I’m in the Launch Room—the Stockyard—and I might not live to see the end of the day. Portia whispers soothing words as she helps me dress in the tawny pants, light green shirt, thick brown belt, brown boots, and thin, hooded black jacket. My shroud. I am going to die in these clothes. Definitely feeling sick.

“Don’t throw up,” Portia urges me, putting a gentle hand on my arm. “You’ll need that food later.”

“Right,” I say, breathing hard. “Right.”

“Drink this,” she directs. “Once your stomach calms down you need to eat more, even if it’s just a pack of crackers.”

“Okay.” I follow her directions and find that the crackers help settle my stomach so I eat as many as I possibly can. I can do this. I can do this.

A pleasant female voice announces it’s time to prepare for launch. I suck in a shaky breath and Portia puts an arm around me, leading me to the tube.

“I believe in you,” she says simply and kisses my cheek for luck.

The cylinder lowers, I can’t hear her, but she gestures for me to hold my chin up. I can do that. I have to appear strong in the beginning or I don’t have a chance. The cylinder rises and I’m greeted with bright sunlight and the smell of pine.

Claudius Templesmith’s voice booms around me and I’m filled with dread. This is really happening. “Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"


End file.
